


Atelphobia

by King_Cymbelline



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: A Little Cuddling, Angst, Arizona Coyotes, Atelphobia, Dylan is sad okay, Edmonton Oilers, Language, M/M, Mario Kart, Pining, Sadness, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Short, i think, mentioned Connor/Mitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Cymbelline/pseuds/King_Cymbelline
Summary: atelphobia(n.) the fear of not being good enough





	Atelphobia

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I'm not saying Dylan isn't good enough, I'm just merely projecting what his thoughts might be during this time. V Angsty for my friend CJ who I don't think has an AO3? 
> 
> But yeah, I love Stromer, okay? He's a good bean and this isn't in anyway trying to make fun of him or anything like that.

Two years. 

Two years of not being good enough. 

Two years of being sent down and tossed around the minor and junior league teams, two years of "You'll make it next year, buddy" and "Just practice and little harder" and "What a bust". 

Two years of working his ass off to at least make the roster. 

Two years of missing it every time, leaving a bitter aftertaste of irritation and envy in the back of his throat, causing him to accidentally spit venomous words to his friends and teammates. He didn't mean to be an asshole, he just felt so wasted, like all his training, all his practicing, all his sleepless nights were for absolutely nothing. 

Kids like Auston Matthews, Mitch Marner, Jack Eichel and McDavid were dominating the NHL as if it were nothing. 

McDavid. Connor McDavid, one of his best friends, was one of the best players in the league and it made him feel almost guilty. He was in the same draft year as him, why couldn't he make the roster for the Goddamn Arizona Coyotes. 

"Not good enough," 

It's like Connor could read minds or sense when something was wrong because Dylan got a message from him just days later, asking when they could hang out next and that he was sorry that he didn't make it this year. 

Dylan was embarrassed. He admired Connor, looked up to him ever since they played together in Erie, and here he was, still not in the NHL. 

Truth be told, Dylan was probably head over heels for Connor, though he'd never admit it. The friendship between them was too valuable and Dylan didn't want to risk it by being an idiot and telling him, "Hey, I'm madly in love with you" which is so something he would do by accident. 

The two boys scheduled a time for Dyl to fly out and visit before either of them had a major road trip. He flew out the next weekend. 

Being with Connor made Dylan feel so much better, so much calmer, so much more... worth it-- good enough. The night started out with video games, a throwback to their slightly younger years. 

Laughing, yelling, cheering, screaming, even singing echoed throughout Connor's place, almost completely distracting Dylan from whatever hockey issues were on his mind.

"Hey, fuck off with that red shell, I see you!" Connor pushed Dylan's feet off of the footstool in an attempt to keep him from obliterating him with the red shell he had ready.

"No, fuck you, I wanted to be Yoshi and you took that away from me-- you deserve this!" Dylan laughed. He felt like he was back home, like Edmonton wasn't Edmonton, it was Erie and they were young, staying up a bit too late and playing a little too much Mario Kart and then paying the consequences as they woke up, completely drained but still able to laugh at their stupid mistakes as they dragged themselves to practice, careful not to tune in their Mario Kart skills as they drove down icy roads and passed neighborhoods of snowmen. 

As the game came to an end, Dylan's face hurt from smiling too much and his stomach was sore from laughter and his eyes were stuck on Connor who had toppled over, clutching his sides and cackling. 

"You're a fucking idiot," Connor said once he could catch his breath. 

The decided to close the night with a movie, sitting down on the couch and draping blankets over their lower bodies, cradling their own bowls of popcorn. 

Dylan felt like he was in a movie himself, as if a teen romance cliche was gonna happen-- maybe someone accidentally brushes the other's hand when reaches for something, maybe a steamy scene comes on and they share that awkward look. 

Something like that kinda happened. 

Somewhere during the movie, Dyl felt Connor wrap his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer into his side. 

"It's good to have you here," Connor smiled down at Dylan. 

He could barely respond, just sending him a smile, praying his heart wasn't beating as loud as it was fast. 

An overwhelming sense of happiness rushed over him, something like the pleasure of being held, the closeness of someone he loved, the feeling of being good enough. 

Oh, how he wanted to be good enough for Connor. 

But he wasn't. 

They sat like that for a while until Connor stood up, pausing the movie and asking Dylan if he needed anything to drink. 

"I'm good," He replied. "Do you know what time it is though?" 

Before walking away, Connor tossed him his phone. "Check,"

Dylan rolled his eyes and clicked the home button on Connor's phone, heart shattering as soon as he saw his lockscreen. 

Mitchell Marner. 

Mitchell Marner and Connor McDavid were kissing. 

And it was his lockscreen. 

He felt his stomach twist and his brain get whiplash from how quickly his emotions changed, from being on cloud nine to being--

Not good enough. 

He felt stupid. He should've known. 

He should've known he would never be good enough for his best friend. 

Not good enough for the team, not good enough for Connor, what else could you try his hands at? What else could he possibly mess up? How many more years of "Next time, buddy", "Practice more", "I'm sorry I'm dating someone that isn't you", "What a bust"?

He felt choked up, swallowing all hope of ever being with the one he wanted most, someone that made him truly happy and someone that actually made him feel good enough. 

He let a few tears run down his face, accepting the fact that he wasn't, will never come close to being, and will never be, for anyone or anything--

good enough.


End file.
